This was the worst part of the night: the waiting.
"I'll be back before you know it."
He had promised. And yet there he was, for the fifth night in a row, making her wait. The night before, he hadn't even showed. She had fallen into a fitful sleep. She felt tightness in her chest and frustration was building up in her stomach like a storm. She was fed up. Childishly, she threw her socks across the room and, after screaming into her pillow, fell asleep. Cold and alone.
That was how he found her, hours later. He felt something stir in his heart at the sight of her clutching her pillow in her slumber, wrapped up in his old Quidditch jumper. He hadn't meant to keep her waiting, but the Dark Lord had kept him longer than he anticipated. He sighed, pushing the memories of his father being tortured to the back of his mind as he bent to remove his shoes and slacks. He looked again at his witch, who looked so small in his bed. Shrugging off his blazer and slipping out of his shirt, he climbed into bed with her and, wrapping an arm around her, buried his face into the softness of her hair.
He was faintly aware that as long as he had this to come home to, he could get through anything.
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229 words
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2nd June 2018
Saturday
Shizz😘
